


Stay With Us

by libruh



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Car Accidents, F/F, Gen, Hospitals, Love, Tears, Worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libruh/pseuds/libruh
Summary: “Both hands on the wheel, dweeb,” she says with a glare, trying to sound annoyed. She doesn’t mean it. “Don’t make me revoke your license.”Peter smiles. “You don’t even have yours,” he points out. “You’re in no position to take mine.”Michelle sticks her tongue out at him, eyes sparkling with mirth, and that’s all it takes to distract him.The light they speed towards changes to red and a truck comes barreling at them, connecting with the passenger side first before plowing the entire car a good fifty feet away.---Peter and Michelle get into a car crash. Being a superhero doesn't fix everything.





	Stay With Us

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this super late with no beta and no editor so hit me up if you want to help me out. Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes. Read while listening to sad music, if you prefer. Lord Huron is pretty good.

Peter rests one hand comfortably at ten on the steering wheel and places the other on Michelle’s knee, who’s sitting in the passenger seat next to him.

Queens slips past them as they drive, the lights from bodegas and tattoo parlors fading into the darkness as a sleepy blanket of purple engulfs the city. The people they pass blur into murky shadows, their faces and names and stories evaporating into the black void of possibility.

Michelle frowns, her curly hair spilling into her eyes as the wind pours through the open windows.

“Both hands on the wheel, dweeb,” she says with a glare, trying to sound annoyed. She doesn’t mean it. “Don’t make me revoke your license.”

Peter smiles. “You don’t even have yours,” he points out. “You’re in no position to take mine.”

Michelle sticks her tongue out at him, eyes sparkling with mirth, and that’s all it takes to distract him.

The light they speed towards changes to red and a truck comes barreling at them, connecting with the passenger side first before plowing the entire car a good fifty feet away.

Michelle takes the brunt of the impact, crying out as the car door presses against her body. Glass from the windshield shatters and rips across both of their faces and skin, leaving behind red racing strips that ooze blood. Peter instinctively reaches to protect her, but the force from the truck sends him against the driver’s side door. All the air immediately leaves his lungs and all he can do is gasp for air as the stained interior of the car cages him in.

A few people come running out of the nearby buildings, their phones pressed tight to their ears. A police siren wails down the street and two people, a woman in a gray suit and a coffee shop employee, pry Peter’s door open.

 _Stop,_ he wants to shout at them. _Help her, help Michelle._

But his lips can’t form the words and there’s no more energy left in him to fight their hands, their hands meant to help, _but he’s not the one who needs help._

 _Michelle,_ he thinks, before tumbling into the unknown.

—

May is out the door before the nurse is even done talking.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” she snaps while jabbing the button to the elevator so many times that she’s afraid that she broke it. She hangs up on the hospital and immediately goes to her contact list, looking for the one person who loves Peter more than she does.

It rings for a minute before going to voicemail. _“This is Michelle. Don’t leave a message.”_

May curses under her breath and redials as the doors to the elevator slide open. When it goes to voicemail again she shoves her phone back into her bag and sprints to her car, promising to update Michelle as soon as she gets to the hospital.

She goes fifteen over the speed limit the whole way there, praying that any cop in her path will have the sense to stay out of her way.

When she’s about five minutes away, she thinks to call Tony.

She glances at her purse, considering it for a moment. He would want to know.

But then a red light brings her car to a screeching halt and she’s preoccupied with taking a slightly illegal right turn and mapping out a shortcut to the hospital in her head, and all thoughts of Tony Stark escape her mind.

—

The phone rings twice, but Ned ignores it.

He’s so close, so impossibly close to finishing the Lego Millennium Falcon that he can almost taste the satisfaction he’ll get from seeing Peter’s astonished face after he details how much fun he had at home by himself while Peter went out with Michelle.

It’s the third time the phone rings that Ned finally checks to see who’s calling.

His stomach drops to the floor. It’s his mom. He is so _fucked._

“Mom, hey,” he nervously says into the phone. The last time he missed his mom’s call, he was grounded for a straight week. “Sorry, I was so caught up in studying-“

 _“Ned,”_ his mom says. She sounds worried. _“Sweetie, I need you to come to my work.”_

Ned scowls dejectedly. His mom works nights at the hospital on the weekends and she’s always calling him to bring her the dinner she forgot or an extra pair of scrubs. He can’t wait for his little sister to get her license so she can start running his mom’s errands.

“Mom, I’m really tired,” he says, feigning a yawn. “I don’t think it’s safe for me to drive at night.”

His mom steps away from the receiver and he can hear the faint beeping of machinery behind her. _“We’re losing her!”_ someone shouts.

 _“Peter’s here,”_ she says, all in one breath. She keeps talking after a pause, about a car accident with a truck and someone else, someone he might know. He doesn’t register any of it because he tunes her out right after “Peter”.

His partner in crime.

Best friend.

Spider-Man.

The Lego set falls from his hands.

“I’m coming.”

—

May and Ned converge on the hospital waiting room at the same time, nearly colliding at the receptionist’s desk.

“Peter Parker,” May says to the woman behind the desk, her face as white as a sheet. “Where is he?”

The woman stands up and gives both of them a piteous look. “I’m sorry, are either of you immediate family?”

May shares a look with Ned. “I’m his aunt,” she snaps, the same time Ned says “I’m his brother.”

May would roll her eyes if she were in any other situation. “He’s adopted,” she explains, hoping it will suffice. “Now can we see my nephew?”

The woman takes a painstakingly long time to check the chart behind her before leading them both behind a set of metal doors into a hallway of hospital rooms. “You’re very lucky,” she explains to them as they walk past the rooms. “Only Peter’s right arm was injured in the crash. Of course, there are a few scrapes, but those will heal right up.” She stops in front of the very last door. “Here you go, P. Parker.”

May brushes past the woman, Ned only a step behind her, and shoves the door open.

Peter’s reclining on a hospital bed inside, wearing the same pair of jeans from earlier and a new, crisp shirt. His right arm is in a sling across his chest and there’s a rather large bandage across his cheekbone, but he looks otherwise unharmed. His large brown eyes stare at them, registering their presence, before being clouded with confusion.

“Oh, thank God,” May cries, rushing forward to crush him in a hug. Tears streak down her face, leaving wet tracks in her makeup, but she doesn’t care. Peter’s saying something, something urgent, but all she can hear is Ned crying about how relieved he is.

Peter basks in their embrace for a moment before pulling away, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Where’s Michelle?” he asks.

_“This is Michelle. Don’t leave a message.”_

_“We’re losing her!”_

All the life drains out of Peter’s eyes when he sees their blank faces.

“Oh no.”


End file.
